The post office has nothing on the Patrick John Mills Gallery poster-team who slapped up 2,100 posters over a week or so venturing forth no matter what the weather.

In addition to the generic I LOVE YOU posters, a combination of coloured posters featuring the work of Mathieu Laca, Patrick John Mills and Jake Stekelenburg, along with a striking red, white and black poster announcing the performance art piece of Robin Lynch at 8:30 pm at the Vernissage on February 2/12.

What was interesting about this cache of newspaper receptacles is that on top of one of them was placed a pair of spectacles.. Either the person had removed them to get a paper or they'd dropped them and someone picked them up and placed them there.

It's as if there are a pair of eyes that never divert their gaze from the posters.

Friday, January 20, 2012

Alan Neal interviewed: Adam Davidson, Michele LeCourtois, and Robin Lynch about the current show in the gallery - I LOVE YOU.

CBC has been so so so kind and supportive to the gallery over the years. I can not express just how much it is appreciated. Thank you again. Thank you for promoting Art and Culture.

The I LOVE YOU show just opened for showing yesterday. The gallery has 300 works. Yes THREE HUNDRED art works on display. It is a massive exhibition. There is so much to feast your eyes and fill your soul here in the gallery. The show is epic.

In the past I have had show titles: I Killed the Group of Seven, WAR, RAW NAKED SOUL, PORN is not ART / PORN is Art... some titles that are pretty heavy. But in January and February the Canadian Winter can be pretty harsh and cold. So I wished to soften the tone and put up 2,100 posters up... I LOVE YOU. Just to add some feel-good feelings in Ottawa.

Having 2100 I KILLED the Group of Seven Posters up with fake blood all over the city in the brutal winter... well... I LOVE YOU... might be a better choice.

I LOVE YOU... Isabelle. I wanted my eight-year-old daughter to see I LOVE YOU all over the city. That is why I titled the show I LOVE YOU. Last year, the show was LOVE. This year, I LOVE YOU. While driving in the car, Isabelle and I would race to see who would see ground hogs. For two months she can see I LOVE YOU.

The show does not have pretty pictures. Yes there are a few nice works in the gallery relating to the words I LOVE YOU. But my vision to allow artists to express and explore the complexity of emotions, the depth, hurt, risk, complication, intensity, anger, lust, passion, rage, hurt, tenderness, obsession, joy, love... love ... love.

I had over 150 artists submit. There was a lot of selection. So this month I included seven new artists into the show. It is not easy to refuse artists opportunity to share, show, sell their work. I find this aspect of owning and running an art gallery most difficult. I love Art. I am an Artist. And I have been rejected many times from being able to share my work with others. So I do understand rejection and the hurt. I find it very difficult to not accept every artist into the gallery.

On the other hand. This might seem blunt, harsh, unkind. I also find it most disrespectful when an individual (note the word individual - not the word artist) approaches my art gallery... only having worked some 50 or so hours, painted 10 - 15 paintings in their life... walk into my gallery and feeling that I should kiss their ass and bend over to show their art work. These individuals are deeply insulted when I politely encourage them to continue painting and develop their work.

Every month I receive approximately 100 submissions from artists all over the world. Some of the submissions are from professional artists who have been painting 10, 20, 30 plus years. These professional artists have dedicated their lives to art.

The word Artist is something I respect deeply. I am an Artist. I have been painting now for 19 years full time. I work an average of 80 hours a week on my career. The word Artist I feel needs to be respected much more these days. I find that word artist is so commonly used.

A person who paints some pictures, plays with some art materials... is not an artist. Just as if I put some slices of bread in the toaster... I do NOT call myself a Chef. Just as if I brush and floss my teeth... I do not call myself a dentist. Just as I put a Band Aid on the cut on my finger... I do not call myself a Doctor.

Before I arrived on location I picked up two slices of pizza and a can of Pepsi. Need some fuel for the night... helps keep you warm.

It being Sunday night... I drove my car on to the sidewalk / no parking. It was -22 degrees but felt like -25 degrees with the wind chill.

My paint was all warm from being heated in the car. So it was easy to squeeze the paint out.

It did not take long for my can of Pepsi to turn to ice. It was cold outside.

I used a piece of charcoal from the wood burning stove. Isabelle (my daughter, age 8) was using it on Tuesday to draw. One week on, one week off. Tuesdays with Dad. Thursdays with Mom.

The charcoal was very ... well something I put in my pocket and wished to incorporate into my painting.

The canvas was as large as my car could transport. The paint on my palette rapidly got inhaled. So I had to get more paint out of the tubes. Squeezing the paint out of the metal tubes was fucking hard. I would like to use another word other than fucking... but that word truly embodies the sentiment. My fingers got really cold fast. Cold metal tubes of paint. After some time my fingers started to scream with intense pain. Like I missed a nail with a hammer. This was good. I was here for a reason. And all was working the way I had anticipated. I was there. I was able to focus on painting completely. It was a good night to paint.

Earlier that week the energy was building up inside my soul. I was finding it very difficult. My mind was feeling like sand paper. Intense mental pain overwhelmed me. January 15th would have been our 13th wedding anniversary, 17 years together. It was a cold night. This was good. The sky would be dark. Sunday night meant no one around. Silence. Pure. Empty. Night.

The winter cold would give me physical paint to help me transfer or help elliviate the emotional pain.

The location was chosen for the need for structure. The composition was arranged to reflect contemplation, balance, void, power, emptiness...

When I got home... I put the painting in the gallery. I put in on the wall behind my office computer. I sat in a chair and looked at it for a while. The large red line was not 90 degrees. It had a slight movement to it that was not level. So I made a 2 minute adjustment. I left it to still be rather unstable, human, painterly, lacking order, compulsive obsessive, movement, solid, still, balanced, but fragmented.

I signed it on the bottom left... as I did not wish to interrupt the red flow of the bottom right hand.